April 26, 2007

I've been pretty bad about updating my posts on this here blog. I could offer the reasons of being out of town, being very busy, and even being sick. But those aren't really reasons are they? They're excuses.

So enough of that. I'll try to settle on a more constant schedule. I can't promise weekends, but I"ll make sure to set a few minutes each day to reflect on things and if you want to read about them, great! If not, well, that's okay too. After all, this is really for me, and you're more than welcome to peak in from every now and then.

Sometimes the most obscure memories come back to me at the strangest of times. Usually in my car driving and listening to music, or late at night, also listening to music.

Today it happened when I was driving. I had the radio tuned to the XM station that I thought might have some New Wave music, but it didn't. What I did hear, however, was a song that took me back to one of my very first jobs in film.

I was working on location, very much by chance, on a film with a very large budget. The truth is I had some experience working production, but what the crew didn't know, was the production work under my belt consisted of friends' school projects, or an odd acting gig here or there, again, on school projects mostly.

That didn't matter much to the production. Here they were, in Jackson, Mississippi and anyone with even a little bit of production experience was hired.

Being with this production was fun. No real responsibility, just a job to do, and an easy one at that. And for the time, that was perfect for me. I was also in a relationship that I couldn't define. A relationship that actually defied definition. But there I was and in it I was.

There were a great many things I hadn't come to terms with in my somewhat young life. Things I hadn't dealt with and things I had known but pretended I didn't. Then, one day, as if out of the blue, I struck up a conversation with someone on the crew.

I actually don't remember who started the conversation, but I think it was me. The very strange thing about this whole incident, however, is that it wasn't with someone who was a contemporary of mine on set. It was with a big mucky muck.

So mucky was this muck that he was rarely spoken to, and when he was, even by his assistant, he was referred to by his last name; as in Mr. Soandso. He, in turn, referred to his assistant as Ms. Soandso.

Of course, the two were the topic of many a conversation. He, and she by association, were considered a bit too highbrow for the rest of us crew. But I never saw that. Instead I saw was a team of two, a team who worked expertly together, in a very demanding job, on a very demanding production, very far away from home.

The conversation was a simple one really, just talking about how beautiful the countryside was and how new it was, for me, to be plopped down in the middle of it, making a movie, and learning a little about the people and the area I might never have seen otherwise.

The conversation was brief. But I got a little charge out of it. There was something about my new friend that seemed different from others I had met. I really couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something intriguing about him.

I hadn't told anyone that we had spoken. It wasn't as if it were a secret, because it clearly wasn't. But it was so interesting to have spent a few minutes talking with someone that everyone else thought wouldn't give anyone the time of day.

I went about my work, and the next day, our paths crossed again, and we said hello, and chatted for a moment. Talk seemed effortless and I lamented that there wasn't a lot to do in Jackson Mississippi on a weeknight which it was, even though it was Friday. On location, a work week is six days. He laughed and said it wasn't as bleak as I had thought.

For me, the real truth was I was smarting over being alone that night. The other half of my non-defined-relationship, was going out on the town and I would be left on my own.

So I did something I thought I wouldn't never do. In fact, I was sure it would snow in Hell before I would ever do such a thing. But such a thing I did; I asked the mucky muck if he would like to have dinner.

To my surprise he said yes. He knew of a very nice restaurant out near a lake and that dinner would be fine. Then he asked where I was staying, I told him, and it turned out I was very near the restaurant, so we would simply meet there.

I can't say I was giddy, but I was excited at having made a new friend. And I'm not exactly sure why, but I got the feeling this new friend had an insight to things I didn't even know existed.

I got dressed in what was a very quiet house. Wasn't sure what to wear, as I never am. But picked something that I thought would be casual, but not too casual.

The restaurant wasn't just near a lake, it was on the lake. And it couldn't have been a more beautiful setting. I walked in, and immediately I saw a hand rise from a table near a window.

I smiled, waved back and headed over. He stood up as only a gentleman would and asked if I would like some wine. I said yes, having never really been a fan of wine, but being desperate in not making a scene by asking for a coke.

While I was old enough to drink, I was really just barely old enough. And was usually carded.

I wasn't carded in this restaurant.

For those who know me well, there are several things I don't do often. One is attend parties. I'm just not much of a party guy. And, honestly, I think it's because I get a little self conscious. The other thing I rarely do, almost never do, in fact, is have dinner with acquaintances. Same thing I'm sure. I just know I'm going to spill my drink, drop food in my lap, or laugh at a joke with a huge piece of spinach in my teeth.

But I felt none of that anxiety this evening. And while I think the obvious conclusion to jump to is that there were ulterior motives on one or both of our parts, honestly, nothing could have been further from the truth.

In fact, after the wine was poured he asked how the rest of my day had been. I told him. And he smiled. Then he asked me why I had asked him to dinner. And my quick reply was asking him why he said yes.

Then he said something fairly extraordinary. He said he agreed to dinner because he got the feeling I was looking for answers to questions I was afraid to ask. Well, as you can imagine, my jaw dropped. I don't think I was aware of it at the time, but that is exactly what I wanted.

For one very nice, quiet evening. I had someone I could open up to. Someone I could talk about the feelings I had that I couldn't bring myself to even utter before. And these questions and comments were directed at someone I didn't know, and in a few weeks or a couple of months, would probably never see again.

We talked of my relationship, of trying to sort things out when you barely know what it is that needs sorting. And we talked of his relationship back home, and how any relationship takes work. And that at my age, there's going to be a lot of mistakes, but if I were lucky, I'd learn from them.

Then I told him that he and his assistant were the talk of the production. He smiled and said he knew, which surprised me. He went on to explain that any production on location is a small family. That people may talk, people may have short term relationships, or people may fight. And while everyone tries to keep secrets, like almost any family, people just know without being told.

He laughed when I said that some even thought he and his assistant were having an affair, apparently he hadn't heard that one.

For a young man still exploring who he was, it was a memorable evening. The company was perfect, the view was great and the food excellent. When the bill came I went for it and was politely chided. He picked it up and took out a credit card.

"But it was me who asked you out," I said.

"Yes, but I make far more than you do," he replied with absolutely no hint of ego. He was just being honest as he had been the entire evening.

As we walked out to our respective cars, he thanked me for a wonderful evening and I did the same. He told me things would be fine, that I should worry less, and enjoy more and I agreed. But who knew that it would take some time before I could actually heed his advice.

If the crew ever talked about our dinner, I didn't hear about it. In a matter of just a short few days, I was offered a different position with the production, one with actual responsibility and one that directly lead me to the path I'm on now. I don't think he had anything to do with that. But now that I reflect on that evening, maybe I shouldn't be so sure.

So many years have passed since that evening, that I could have forgotten all about it. It's strange that it came back to me today. But I'm happy it did.

And while we never had the chance to say goodbye when the production ended, I didn't feel as if I needed to. We said more in one evening than I had with almost anyone else on that production.

April 18, 2007

I heard an old interview with George Harrison that I thought was oddly appropriate today. Well, maybe it would have been much more appropriate yesterday, but I think it's still worth mentioning.

Back in the day, I guess way back in the day, a British Pound used to be worth 20 Shillings. And, according to Harrison, when you began to make a certain amount of money, the tax rate was so high in England that it was literally 19 shillings and so many pence for the government, and the balance to the tax payer.

Now that seems oddly high, even for Britain, but that's what he said in his interview. Out of that experience, of course, came the famous Beatles song Tax Man.

Of course things are much better there now I guess. But having finished my taxes later than I think I ever have, I can't help but wonder if that old song is still a little relevant.

And speaking of tax time, word today is that the people over at Turbo Tax were dealing with such massive on-line filing that they experienced delays in receiving confirmations from the IRS on those documents that had been submitted electronically.

For the most part I have always been one of those early filers. For some reason, I was one of those who filed late this year. Well, Monday, which is still late, but not as late as it could have been. Still, I faced the same issue with non confirmation of my documents having been received by the IRS.

Today I got word that my State paperwork was accepted, but I'm still waiting on Federal. I hope they did get it on time, because if I get penalized, well, as George Harrison said " ...[I] don't want to pay some more."

April 17, 2007

One of my favorites shows; The West Wing, caused quite a stir when they killed off beloved character Mrs. Delores Landingham, long time secretary to the president.

The move was so shocking that even the California State Assembly paid tribute to the fictional character. Of course that tribute can be looked at any number of ways, not the least common probably that the California State Assembly should have more important things to do than pay tribute to a fictional television character. But that's besides the point.

My point, if ever I really have one, is that I'm disappointed that another of my favorite shows; Scrubs, has pulled a Mrs. Landingham. Granted, not with the shock of The West Wing, but Scrubs has killed off a beloved character.

Aloma Wright plays, or played, nurse Lavern Roberts. And, like so many of the cast members on the show, she was a treat to watch. A nurse who took no attitude from anyone, but was free in giving it, Wright played the nurse you wish you could turn to in an emergency. She stars in a number of commercials and features coming up and I can only assume that's the reason for her departure. But the show is going to be a little less fun without her.

I don't know if this is still the case, but for a time, many of the show's non-starring regulars didn't have extended contracts. They were hired per episode as recurring characters, again, I don't know if this is still the case, but I can see someone leaving the show for a more consistent role but it doesn't make me miss them any less.

The passing of Nurse Roberts was handled pretty well. A couple of episodes were devoted to her religious outlook on life, as well as her being ill, and eventual passing. It's that kind of attention to characters we love that make killing someone off a Little more palatable. Just a little.

Scrubs continues to be an enjoyable show and whileI had, for a time, wished it were an hour instead of the standard half hour sitcom, I think a little of a good thing is better than too much. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Scrubs, but I tune in to watch a comedy and while there are episodes that deal with serious issues (it is a hospital after all) I would hope they focus more on the comedy.

A friend once said that he thought the show was getting a little preachy, and yeah, I can see that point of view. But so long as they make sure it's wrapped in a nice cover of comedy and hijinks, I really don't mind so much.

April 16, 2007

No, I did not say gams, I said legs, the kind we talk about in regard to Box Office.

Much has been said about John Travolta's recent release Wild Hogs that's close to reaching the $200 million dollar mark, and Zack Snyder's accomplishment of that benchmark for his film 300. It's the legs these two films have that have allowed it to stay in the top 10.

Now there is talk of whether or not Shia LaBeouf has legs. Well, not LaBeouf exactly, but his most recent film. The surprise opening of Disturbia in the number one spot has a lot of people talking. And they're wondering just exactly what it was that made this film number one; is it the movie itself? The marketing campaign? or Shia LaBeouf himself? And if it is LaBeouf, will the film have legs beyond this weekend?

LaBeouf has a long list of credits, most notably for Disney. A few may remember him from the Matt Damon, Ben Affleck television program Project Green Light and its subsequent second feature The Battle Of Shaker Heights. At the time LaBeouf was heralded as a new breakout star, and things looked good for him, that same year he was starring in the screen version of the popular kids book Holes.

Unfortunately LaBeouf didn't set any screens afire with Shaker Heights, but to be fair, none of the films from Project Greelight has caught fire, so its dismal outing may have had nothing to do with him.

It should be pointed out that right before the release of Disturbia, the announcement was made that Shia LaBeouf landed a role in the next installment of the Indiana Jones franchise.

So, again, it could have been that Disturbia had a great marketing campaign. Or that it had great word of mouth and is a terrific film, or maybe people just went to see who this new kid is who will be starring in the next Indy movie.

Whatever the case may be, Shia LaBeouf deserves a break. At 20 years old, he amassed a pretty impressive resume, and has proven himself better than some of the projects he's landed. And his credits are impressive in that they span movies, television and some music. He's cut his hair and looks less like the average kid of Holes, or Shaker Heights, and more like the burgeoning matinee idol he may very well become. And after Disturbia, LaBeouf will be seen in Michael Bay's Transformers later this year.

And LaBeouf may actually have a good laugh in the end, as Transformers was widely viewed as a film that had no real stars to carry it, instead relying on named talent for smaller supporting roles.

If Disturbia continues to hold the top one or two spot, expect some new ads for Transformers that feature the new breakout, overnight sensation. An overnight that lasted nearly 10 years.

If you watched television in the 70's you were sure to see Don Ho. Whether it was his variety show for ABC, his numerous guest appearances on talk shows or series' or his memorable guest shot on The Brady Bunch, Don Ho was, for many, the embodiment of Hawaii.

Tiny Bubbles, the song he made famous, was one he joked about not liking much but he entertained thousands of tourists to the islands each year. And he performed, almost non stop for forty years.

Ho had suffered from an ailing heart, and much attention was paid when he went to Thailand a few years ago to have an experimental procedure that was supposed to utilized stem cells to stave off the deterioration. I don't know if that procedure gave him a couple more years, or not. But I guess, in the end, it doesn't really matter.

I can remember, when I was a kid, being chided by the brother of a dear friend when I commented on how I enjoyed Don Ho on the Carson show. He said that while Don Ho might have been a good singer, he couldn't hold a candle to Alfred Apaka.

My friend rolled her eyes at that, and told me later that her brother had spent years in Hawaii, and when he returned he played only Apaka records for the first few months. And while Apaka was certainly a great singer, they were happy if they didn't have to hear them for some time.

I can't say I ever saw Don Ho on my visits to Hawaii, but I often thought I'd try to catch his show on one of my future trips. Kind of like Tiny Bubbles, and fun 70's sitcoms, I guess I just always assumed Don Ho would be there.

Hawaii is, to me, as much a state of mind as it is a beautiful oasis in the vast ocean. And while I know Don Ho is gone, I'll go to sleep tonight, thinking of him sitting behind his keyboard, entertaining the crowds, and maybe I'll dream of being on Oahu, the breeze never too cold, and never too warm. And maybe I'll sip a Mai Tai as I dream of him singing about the golden moon, and the silver sea.

April 04, 2007

I don't know that I ever thought much about Alan Alda. I don't mean to say I didn't think he was worthy of his status in Hollywood. I just don't know that I spent a lot of time thinking about him.

I enjoyed his work on M*A*S*H, on his specials for PBS and other work, and I truly enjoyed his take as Arnold Vinick, the Republican challenger to Jimmy Smits' Matt Santos on The West Wing.

So when I heard about his new memoir Never Have Your Dog Stuffed, And Other Things I've Learned, I didn't rush out to buy it. I did, however, come across the paperback version at an airport. To be honest, I rarely read on planes. I usually try to sleep. As I've gotten older (not much older mind you), I've enjoyed traveling a lot less. I mean, I enjoy being at my destination, it's just the whole getting to or from the destination that I don't care much for.

So I bought the book and it sat at my nightstand for a while. When I finally decided to check it out, I couldn't put it down.

Alda writes as if he's having a conversation with you. In fact, he writes so freely that, at times, he says things that are so intimate, it's as if we've been friends for years. And that, in itself, is kind of odd because of the whole "celebrity" status of Alan Alda.

Like any other named actor in Hollywood, or anywhere for that matter, fans get to know these people by watching them on television or movies. We see aspects of a person in their performance, and I might argue, the longer we see them, the more of themselves we might get to know. But we can never really know them.

It's like saying that we can know an artist by the music they perform, or the paintings they paint or the books they write. And yes, while we might have an insight to them, we don't really interact with them, so our understanding is very limited. Unless of course, you're a stalker, but that's really a topic for a whole other post.

So Alda's writing is so uninhibited as to shine light on his entire life, and I would argue, parts of his life that he opens up may have left his parents a little less than happy. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, I think he is giving us his take on life, and at no time does he ever cast aspersions on his family, quite the opposite. But if his mom were anything like my mom (and they're not) she wouldn't be too happy about appearing anywhere in print, let alone describing scenarios from life.

But it's this openness that just takes you in. It's this freedom that makes us cringe for him at certain stages in his life, or bask in his excitement at other stages. But, for me, the greatest aspect of this book is his die hard belief that his work was work. A craft that others may see as "easy" or "flashy" or any of a number of other descriptive words, to him, was, and is, work.

He is cut from a cloth that believes acting to be a lifelong endeavor of experience. And to be able to convey those experience well, one must analyze those experiences.

I've written before about different techniques in acting, where it be Meisner, Stanislavsky, Method or any number of techniques. And each actor is different and chooses different techniques to best covey to an audience their character.

But for actors like Alan Alda, it's more than just work, it's life. His book reminded me a little bit of the Shelley Winters autobiography Shelley Also Known As Shirley. Her take on acting was much like Alda's. It was just as viable a job as any other, requiring study, dedication, determination, and some luck.

And like Winters, Alda recounts a rich history of American theater and his observations and part in it even at a very young age. And while I honestly thought the book would focus heavily on his years on M*A*S*H, it doesn't. In fact, while he discusses the series, it is obvious that as great a show as M*A*S*H was, it was just another chapter in his rich life, but not the focus of his life.

With celebrities commanding the front pages of magazines and headlines in newspapers more for their antics off screen than on, it's refreshing to see someone who still treats the craft as an honest days work that is never taken for granted. I hope younger celebrities learn from his account and put as much effort into their craft as some seem to do in their nightlife.

April 02, 2007

It's been a very strange few weeks here at The Pre-Read Compound. Strange for a variety of reasons, none of which I'll bore you with. Let's just say it's been hectic.

But last night it slowed down a bit. Actually a great deal.

I had dinner with someone I met only about two and a half years ago. But since that time we've become very fast, and very close friends. I don't see Z as often as I would like and now, I won't be seeing much of her at all. She's moving back to her home in the south.

When my good friend S got the news she had cancer, it was Z along with some other friends from work who really kicked into high gear for her. You see S was a nurse; a hospice nurse, and so is Z. And when you're thrown a curve ball like a terminal illness, it's amazing how much comfort you can find in people who have medical training. I know it was for S, and it was certainly true for me.

Z and the other nurses with whom S worked made sure that she took advantage of all the things that a person in her situation should take advantage of. You would think that since S was a nurse herself, she would know all this. But of course, she had other things, much bigger things on her mind, and it was her friends who let her relax while they did the groundwork, called the pharmacies, and met with the doctors.

I remember, clearly, S telling me about her new friend Z. They had met at work just as S was diagnosed and they had hit it off immediately. Before I was to meet Z for the first time, however, S made sure to let me know that Z was from the south, and she was a bit more conservative than we were. So we should probably avoid politics.

Well, I could certainly do that I told her. But what I found in Z was someone who had a free mind on all things. Whether it be politics, health, the world at large, the after-world, or even her pets. Z couldn't be pigeonholed as conservative, because she clearly isn't. And she's certainly not a liberal. She's simply Z, and that's what makes her a great friend.

Oddly enough, Z had planned to move back south just a couple of weeks before S got her diagnosis and Z decided that her move would have to wait. Her friend needed her and she was going to be there for her. And she was.

And she's been there for me too.

As it turns out, Z is only one of a few people I talk to about my departed friend. We're never morose about it, just talk about remembrances. Z let's me go on about my teenage years with S and the escapades we got into.

So it's been a little sad around the Compound this week. Friday will mark the second year since S left us, and on Saturday Z will finally follow through on her plans to return home.

Of course no one is truly far away with phones, cell phones, and e-mail. But Z leaving is just a reminder that things change. And sometimes, I try, always unsuccessfully, to hang on to things so that they won't. But in the end I should be happy, and to a degree, I am. I'm happy Z will be reunited with family, and I'm happy that I'll have a place I can visit in a part of the country that I find so beautiful. I'm just sorry to see Z leave, and I'm sorry I don't have S to talk to about it.